


Trinkets and Heartstrings

by jeeno2



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gift Giving, Inspired by The Gift of the Magi - O. Henry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8729170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/pseuds/jeeno2
Summary: During their first Christmas together on Pete's World, the Doctor and Rose try to find the perfect Christmas gifts for each other.  Inspired by The Gift of the Magi.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Diomede](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diomede/gifts).



> Written as part of the DW Secret Santa exchange on tumblr for Diomede, who prompted: "Post-Journeys End. Tentoo is my baby and the world needs more fic of him and Rose." 
> 
> I REALLY loved writing this fic. Quite a bit more than I expected to, tbh. ;) I hope you enjoy it. :(It's about 2/3 finished, and so my plan is to post a new chapter every few days as the edits get completed. You won't have to wait long for the resolution. ;))
> 
> Many thanks to mountaingirlheidi and hanluvr for the beta and feedback.

It takes the Doctor and Rose much longer than usual to get from their two-bedroom flat near Torchwood to London’s central shopping district. 

Of course, the Doctor muses, it _is_ nearly Christmas.  As he looks around their subway car, full nearly to bursting with joyful, happy people, he supposes he should have anticipated a delay.

Though the Doctor has found many differences between this universe and the prime one these past six months, Christmas seems be celebrated much the same way.  People here take the last two weeks of December off work if they can, just as they did on the other Earth.  And if they can’t do that, they try to duck out of meetings and other responsibilities as early as possible so they can shop, meet up with friends, and generally make merry the rest of the day.

In fact, this subway car was so crowded with rosy-cheeked revelers when he and Rose climbed aboard this morning, that there was nowhere for them to sit and hardly anywhere left to stand.  And so they’ve stood in one cramped spot for nearly an hour now, hands clamped tightly round the center pole to keep from stumbling into other passengers with every jolt of the train.

At length, however, the train does finally arrive at its destination.  As it slows, engine gears grinding beneath their feet and people shuffling toward the exits, the Doctor looks over at Rose, standing barely a hairbreadth away from him on this crowded train.  Her hand has rested less than an inch away from his on the pole this entire time and he’s ridiculously proud of himself for not having given into temptation and covering it with his own.

The Doctor sighs, closing his eyes.  His new, easily excitable half-human hormones will be the death of him one day.  Of this he has no doubt.  As the train grinds to a halt the Doctor tries to distract himself from Rose’s proximity by sliding his free hand into his pocket and fiddling with the small Galifreyan occulator tucked inside.  It’s one of the precious few objects he'd had in his pockets when they were left here six months ago, and while he has no real use for it without a working TARDIS he carries it with him wherever he goes as a sort of talisman to keep him grounded.  Now, on the subway, and with Rose still standing far too close to him, the Doctor turns the small object over and over again with his fingers, focusing on its smooth polished surface and willing his head to clear.

A moment later the subway doors slide open, saving him from further temptation.  Rose – wearing a red-checked knit cap and a warm, pink puffer jacket – takes her hand from the metal pole and puts it into her own pocket to keep it warm.  

She looks up at him and smiles.

“Ready, Doctor?”  Her eyes are bright and sparkling.  She looks incomparably happy today – just the way he’s always imagined she might during a Christmas not fraught with imminent intergalactic danger. 

She looks beautiful right now, if he’s being honest.  Radiant.  Then again, she always does. 

The Doctor swallows thickly before returning her smile.

“I’m ready if you are, Rose,” he says, keeping his tone light.  He nimbly hops off the train and makes a theatrical gesture with his arms.  She laughs at him, playful.  The happy sound of it makes his stomach swoop.  “Let’s go.”

* * *

 

 

Once out of the train station and in the open air the Doctor breathes deeply, trying to soak up all the happy sights, sounds, and smells of London at Christmastime.

The giant clock on the wall of the station tells him it’s still only half-ten in the morning, but this part of the city is already bustling with activity.  Most of the shops lining the narrow streets have done up their awnings and front doors with boughs of holly and flashing colored lights, and happy people crowd around café tables with mugs of steaming tea and cocoa between them.

“Brilliant,” the Doctor says happily.  He rubs his hands together and looks in on a shop display.  The store apparently sells nothing but shoes – something he definitely does not need more of – and so he turns away a moment later. “There’s nothing like this time of year, is there, Rose?”

“Definitely not,” Rose agrees.  She clears her throat.  “So, then.  Do you know where you’re headed?”

“I think so,” he says, rummaging around in his pocket for the little map Pete drew up for him last night.  “Though I suppose I better make certain of that.”

“Yeah,” Rose says.  “This shop’s supposed to be pretty hard to find if you don’t know exactly where to look for it.  An’ it doesn’t show up too well on GPS because… well.  You know.  Alien technology and all that.”

“Right,” the Doctor agrees, nodding.  He’s heard much the same from the Torchwood colleagues who recommended the shop to him.  He pulls out Pete’s map and unfolds it carefully.  “Right then.  According to this, it’s only a few blocks from here.”  He looks up and over Rose’s shoulder, eyes focusing, trying to make out the street sign just beyond her.  “Okay, yes.  I believe it’s that way.”  He nods his head in the direction he intends to try.

Rose rubs her hands together, trying to warm them.  “All right then.  See you back at the flat?”

The Doctor nods.  Their splitting up had been the plan all along, of course.  He needs to spend most of the day locating hard-to-find but incredibly necessary parts for the growing baby TARDIS, and Rose has presents for her mum, Pete, and Tony to buy.  “Yes, that sounds good.  I’ll be back by early afternoon I should think.”

“Take your time, Doctor,” Rose says.  Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and her words come out as white puffs on the cold December air.  She grins at him again, and his eyes are, as they often are these days, drawn inexorably to her rosy-tinted lips.  He wonders, briefly, madly, what she might do if he reached up and cupped her face in his hands.  If he kissed her -- just once, only once -- as he's ached to do ever since that time she kissed him on Bad Wolf Bay.

Before he has a chance to act on either impulse, however, Rose bids him farewell and turns on her heels, hurrying off in the direction of London’s fashion district.

The Doctor stands on the street corner mutely for a moment, watching her walk away from him.  At length, he sighs and closes his eyes.

Since that one fateful afternoon at Bad Wolf Bay, Rose has given no clear indication that she wishes their relationship to progress beyond a purely platonic one.  

She is unfailingly kind to him, to be sure.  That horrible time of stony cold silences and hurtful glares is well and truly past them now. And she is nothing if not a thoughtful, gracious roommate.

But every time the Doctor senses a certain… change in the air between them – every time there is a pause in their conversation, every time she gives him a certain look that makes him wonder, in spite of himself, _is now the moment?_ – Rose pulls away.  Shuts down.  Leaves the room, leaving him to his dark and tangled thoughts.

The Doctor shakes his head, disappointment coursing through him for what might be the hundredth time since stepping out of the TARDIS for the last time and onto that beach.

“Right then,” he murmurs under his breath once he’s finally gotten a hold of himself again.  He nods determinedly.  “I have some shopping to do.”

* * *

 

Rose smiles to herself as she hurries along the cobblestone streets toward her destination. 

At first she’d worried the Doctor wouldn’t agree to splitting up today.  He’s been very reluctant to let her out of his sight lately.  

Of course, she can’t really fault him for that.  It’s been a very long few weeks for both of them, though she supposes their work for Torchwood has never been exactly _easy_.  If Rose ever has to pull another all-nighter trying to broker peace between warring alien factions, or negotiate her way through a hostile nation’s prison system with nothing but her mobile, her wits, and a handful of safety pins, it will be far too soon for her liking.

In fact – and as hard as it's been to admit it to herself – after everything they’ve been through these past six months, she now craves the Doctor’s company at the end of a long workday just as much as she thinks he wants hers.  And not just at the end of the day, either.  She wants to linger with him in the mornings over breakfast as he makes their tea, wants to spend weekends with him listening to holiday music as they do up their first proper tree.

In truth, she wants to be with him all the time.

 _How far we’ve come_ , she muses, biting her lip.

But she brushes the thought aside.  As much as she’s come to love her precious bits of free time spent with the Doctor, and as much as the idea of doing their holiday shopping together sets off a funny little flutter of butterflies in her stomach, he simply cannot be with her on today’s errands.

Rose mentally runs through her shopping list one more time as she makes her way through the crowded streets, past carolers and throngs of eager shoppers.

First of all, there’s that new Lego set Tony wants.  That’ll be easy enough.  Then there’s that new silk necktie for Pete, and some potted geraniums for Mum.  (There’s an especially beautiful variety in this universe that blooms year-round; they’ve long been her mum’s favorites.)

And then, of course, there’s the not-small matter of the Doctor’s gift.

Rose still doesn’t know what to get him.  He is, bar none, the hardest person in the world to shop for.  But he’s so kind to her and so giving.  And more than that, the Doctor is so very _there_ for her, all of the time, even though god knows there’ve been moments these past six months she hasn’t deserved it.  Moments when she’s pulled away or spoken harshly to him, when he’s done nothing at all wrong but remind her of… _him._

As though being _him_ were a thing he could stop doing if he only tried hard enough.

She wants to get him something that will be make him happy.  Something that lets him know, in a tangible sort of way her words and actions have not gotten across, just how much he’s come to mean to her.

More than anything, she wants to get the Doctor something that will make him smile.

Rose quite nearly misses the shop she was looking for as she pictures that smile in her mind’s eye – his daft, gorgeous smile that was gone from her life for far too long.  She thinks of the adorable way the Doctor’s eyes light up when he grins at her, the way they crinkle up at the corners just a bit when he’s laughing…

“Oi! Watch where you’re going!”

“Oh!” Rose exclaims in surprise, hand to her heart.  A boy of about thirteen, riding a bicycle and wearing a Santa hat all askew, shoots Rose a scathing look after nearly colliding with her on the sidewalk.

“Um… sorry?” Rose adds feebly as the boy peddles away.

It takes Rose a long moment to collect her wits enough to breathe again.  At length, however, she blinks at her surroundings and glances up at the shop display in front of her, before realizing,, gratefully, that she’s here.

“Legoland,” she says, reading the shop’s sign and nodding confidently.

This gift, at least, is one she’s certain the recipient will love.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter will be up in another few days. Thanks for reading. :)

When the Doctor finally arrives at the shop he's been looking for, he frowns at it skeptically.  He checks Pete’s map again to make sure he’s got the right place.

According to the map, he does.

This isn’t at all what the Doctor expected, to put it mildly.  It's a squat and nondescript little building, with none of the festive holiday decorations covering much of the rest of London.  There's nothing about the place that suggests it contains alien trinkets and technology for sale. In fact, there’s nothing in its dusty little shop window at all but a ratty pair of rollerskates and a rag doll that looks like it hasn’t been touched in decades.

Then again, the Doctor muses, Pete wouldn’t get a thing like this wrong.  One of his many responsibilities these days is to keep careful tabs on the handful of shops on Earth that sell alien artifacts.  And the Doctor supposes he knows better than anyone that things can often look very different on the inside.

“Well, might as well have a look around,” he says to himself, shrugging.  He pockets the map and opens the shop’s front door.

His jaw drops in genuine surprise when he sees what’s inside.

In his more than nine hundred years of life, the Doctor has been to more planets than he can name and more alien bazaars than he can count.  But never in any of his lifetimes has he seen a collection of objects like this one.  He slowly enters the shop, gawking in wonder at the shelves lining the walls.  Each one is full near to bursting with riotously colorful baubles, and such wondrous technology that he allows himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, this little shop can help him with what he needs.

The Doctor had known this store was well-regarded by Torchwood for the breadth of its merchandise.  But this place is more than just a well-stocked shop.  After just a few minutes’ time, the Doctor concludes its owners must have gathered their inventory from every known corner of this universe.

His heartbeat quickens and he breaks into a broad smile.  Maybe it won’t be much longer before his little TARDIS is ready for a test run after all.

“Excuse me, sir,” a voice calls out from the far back corner of the shop.  The Doctor turns his head towards it and sees a short, pale-faced man with spectacles perched on the tip of his nose walking towards him. “Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, yes.  Yes, you can, actually.”  The Doctor walks towards him, meeting him in the middle of the shop.  “I’m, ah… well, I'm currently in need of a pair of square giziwomps for my growing ship’s outboard rotor.”  The words come out in a tangled rush, and despite the impressiveness of their surroundings the Doctor immediately worries he's just overwhelmed the proprietor.

But to the Doctor’s relief the little man nods right away, seeming to understand exactly what the Doctor just said. “Ah. I see,” he says.

The Doctor takes this as a good sign.  “I’d thought I’d never find a suitable pair here in London, but based on what I’ve seen in your shop so far –“ the Doctor pauses, gesturing grandly to the shelves surrounding them – “I’m guessing you may have exactly what I need.  Or at least can point me in the direction of where I may find them.”

The man smiles.  “Well, I thank you for your vote of confidence.  It’s been some time since we’ve had a customer request something that… ah… _unusual_ , I guess you could say.  I don’t believe we have any out on the floor at present but if you would be so kind as to let me check our storeroom in the back…?”

The Doctor nods eagerly.  “Oh, yes.  Of course.  Of course!  I’ll just wait out here.”

“Very well,” the man says.  “I’ll be back in a few moments.  Please feel free to have a look around.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”  The Doctor nods politely to the shopkeeper, who smiles at the Doctor again before walking briskly towards the back storage room.

The Doctor wastes no time in taking the shopkeeper up on his offer.  Rubbing his hands together in anticipation he wanders through the rows of neatly ordered shelves, so excited to be around such varied alien technology all in one little room he starts bouncing on the balls of his feet without realizing he’s doing it.  

When ten minutes go by and still the shopkeeper has not returned the Doctor starts to wonder if perhaps he should take this opportunity to look around for a Christmas present for Rose.

They haven’t discussed getting Christmas gifts for each other. Given how fraught with danger their two Christmases together were, it isn’t as though they have any sort of holiday gift-giving tradition to build on.

Still, though.  The thought of getting Rose a Christmas present -- of doing it all up properly, like a human might; putting it in a cardboard box and wrapping it up in paper and ribbons -- makes him feel very warm inside.

Imagining her eyes lighting up Christmas morning when she sees this tangible evidence of how much she means to her, convinces him that getting her a gift is the right thing to do.

He wants to get her some sort of jewelry. It’s not a terribly practical gift, he knows.  But Rose, for all her pragmatism, still loves her big hoop earrings, and she was never able to pass up a display of colorful alien bangles whenever they'd pass one in their travels.  

He wants to get her something that will make her smile.

He’d initially planned on a separate trip to a jewelry store, but given that he’s still waiting on his giziwomps…

And then, without warning, he sees it.  Halfway to the back of the store, nestled among a half-dozen other necklaces that are far less impressive, is a silver Galarian heartstring.  It’s been a century, if not two, since the last time he saw one.  And it is so utterly perfect for Rose it stops him right in his tracks.

With reverent hands, the Doctor lifts it off its hook.  Galarian heartstrings are prized throughout the prime universe both for their unrivaled strength and their unparalleled beauty.  True, this isn't the prime universe, but if he's not much mistaken…

The Doctor taps the heartstring gently with his right index finger.  It emits a nearly imperceptible ringing sound in response.

Oh, yes.  It's the same as any other Galarian heartstring.  The Doctor palms the little necklace and grins.

Rose is forever misplacing her old TARDIS key.  The key is useless to her now, of course.  It’s little more than a trinket.  But Rose still counts it among her most treasured possessions, try as she might to hide this fact from him.  It stings a little, knowing how much she still thinks of that earlier time… and that other him.  He knows it’s not rational to feel this way, because he does understand -- on some level, at least -- that this key also represents a precious, irreplaceable part of his own history with her.

But he’s part human now.  And to his unending frustration, perfect rationality is no longer something he can count among his strong suits.   

He nods to himself, his mind made up.  Galarian heartstrings are nearly indestructable.  If Rose strings the TARDIS key through the chain and then wears it round her neck she’ll never lose it again.

“Ah yes.  Here we are, then.”  

The shopkeeper’s voice pipes up from the back of the shop, bringing the Doctor out of his reverie.  The man carries with him a pair of giziwomps that the Doctor can tell right away will be perfect for his needs.

“How much is this?” the Doctor asks, indicating the heartstring.

The shopkeeper rests the giziwomps on a nearby shelf and looks at the Doctor, confused.

“Come again?” he asks.

“This right here,” he says, gesturing again to the necklace.  “How much is it?  None of your items are marked.”

The man carefully makes his way over to where the Doctor stands.  He extracts his bifocals from a breast pocket and puts them on.

“Ah,” he says, nodding slowly.  “Yes.  Oh, yes.  Now I remember.”  He takes off his glasses and returns them to his pocket.  “This chain, though simple in appearance, is imbued with a lot of unusual features, if I am not mistaken.”  He sniffs thoughtfully.  “It’s both beautiful and nearly unbreakable.  A very rare combination.  Very rare indeed.”

The Doctor nods.  “Yes,” he says.  “I know.  And that’s exactly why I’m interested in it.”  He puts the necklace back on its hook.  “Never seen anything quite like it, to be honest.  Well, I say never -- really I just mean it’s been a while.”  He clears his throat.  “And my fri– um… my… my Rose would absolutely love to have it. I think.”

The shop owner gives the Doctor a kindly, knowing smile.  “What a thoughtful lover you are,” he says.

The Doctor blanches.  “Oh, no.  No, no.  No.  It’s… um.  It’s not like that with me and Rose, you see.  We… um.  Well.”  He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, not really knowing how to finish that sentence.

The shopkeeper simply chuckles and shakes his head.  “Well, whoever this _Rose_ is, she is certainly lucky to have someone as thoughtful as you.”

The Doctor isn’t certain he agrees with that.  “Thank you,” he says awkwardly all the same.

“How much are you asking for the necklace?” he asks again, rummaging around in his coat pocket for his wallet.

“Oh, let me see.  Let me see.” The man rubs his chin thoughtfully.  “You’ll forgive me for not having a ready answer for you, I hope.  No one has expressed interest in that in many years.”

“I find that very hard to believe,” the Doctor says, surprised.

“All the same, it’s true,” the shopkeeper says wistfully.  “Doesn’t seem to be much appreciation for the finer things in life nowadays.  In any event, I suppose I should be asking you what you’ve brought me to trade for it.”  

The Doctor’s eyes go wide.  “What have I brought to... trade for it?”

“Mm,” the man confirms, nodding.  “We don’t deal in money here.  We have this wonderful collection because our best customers are also our best suppliers of merchandise.”  He smiles, eyes twinkling.  “One man’s junk is another man’s treasure and all that.”

The Doctor blinks several times.  He hadn’t anticipated this, though now he wonders why he hadn’t.  A bartering system in a shop like this would make much more sense here on Earth than on most other planets.  Even though this particular Earth is more intergalacticly connected than its prime universe’s counterpart, all things considered, it’s still relatively isolated.  The Doctor should have known immediately that that’s how this human man had such an impressive assortment of alien artifacts in the heart of London.

“You seem surprised,” the shopkeeper says.

The Doctor nods.  “I am.”

“Ah,” the man says.  “Well, might you have anything with you today that you think might interest me?”

The Doctor swallows.  “Well,” he says, slowly.  “I suppose I have... this?”  The Doctor pulls out the psychic paper he pilfered from the TARDIS shortly before he was deposited here six months ago.  

The man grimaces.  “Oh, do put that away,” he says.  “I’m well familiar with things of that nature and I won’t have such devices of trickery in my store.”

“Ah,” the Doctor says, a little embarrassed.  “Well, I suppose the only other thing I happen to have with me that might, um, go with your store’s general theme, is this.”

The Doctor closes his eyes and swallows, bracing himself.  He pulls the small, Gallifreyan occulator out of his pocket and holds it out for the shopkeeper to inspect.  

The man’s eyes go wide.  “Oh, my.”  He runs his hands through his hair, clearly very excited by what he’s looking at.   “May I ask what that is, sir?”

“It’s an occulator.  It helps me navigate my ship.”  He pauses, takes a deep breath.  “And it’s also… um.  From a race of people that’s long gone.”  He closes his eyes and digs his fingernails into his palms, willing himself to keep his emotions in check.

“Incredible,” the shopkeeper breaths.  “I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.”  The man smiles warmly at the Doctor.  “And I’ve been all over the galaxy myself, you know.”  He takes a step closer to the Doctor and puts his bifocals back on.  He peers through them to examine the object more closely.  “Incredible,” he says again.  

“Can’t I interest you in something else?” he asks weakly, though the gleam in the shopkeeper’s eye makes the Doctor suspect he already knows the answer.  “I have access to a number of very interesting things through my work at Torchwood.  If you would be willing to work out some sort of IOU arrangement --”  

But the man shakes just shakes his head.  “I have enough things from Torchwood’s storage rooms to last me a lifetime,” he says.  “But what I don’t have is that occulator you’ve got in your hand.”  He puts his bifocals back into his pocket and smiles warmly at the Doctor.  “I sure would like to have it, though.”

The Doctor swallows.  “You would?”

“Yes,” the man says.  “I would.  If you give it to me, I’ll give you that necklace and throw in the giziwomps for your ship free of charge.”  

The Doctor closes his eyes and thinks for a long moment.

This occulator, even though presently completely useless to him, is one of his last connections to his first home and to the people lost to him forever.

The thought of making Rose happy, though -- the idea of giving her something unique, something deeply personal, that will let her know in a way he lacks adequate words to express how much he cares for her….

Well.  He just can’t think of anything he wouldn’t give or do to make that happen.

“Sold,” the Doctor says, though the word sounds distant to his ears.  With shaking hands, he presses the small, round object into the shopkeeper’s palm before he can have second thoughts.

The man smiles warmly at him.  “We have a deal, then.” 

“Indeed we do,” the Doctor says, trying to ignore the tears pricking the backs of his eyes.

The shopkeeper pats his hand.  “I’ll just go into the back and get a nice little box for your new necklace, then.”  He walks off to the storage room, leaving the Doctor alone with his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

When at last the shop the Doctor visited this morning is in sight, Rose glances down at her watch, judging how much time she has until she really can’t put off going home any longer.

“He can’t still be in there,” she says to herself, hoping that’s true.

None of the shops she’s visited today had anything she thought the Doctor would find remotely interesting. It’s possible, of course, that she just picked out the wrong stores to visit. Somehow, though, she doesn’t quite believe that’s true.  

The Doctor feels stuck, being here on Earth all the time.  Working for Torchwood in their intergalactic department probably helps somewhat, but it isn’t as though studying the stars and the movement of the planets is the same thing as actually striding among them as he’d done for nearly a millennium before landing here.  

It should have occurred to her right from the start that the best gift she can get for the Doctor this Christmas is something that will remind him of those stars, and that one day soon he’ll be traveling again.

When Rose initially made discreet inquiries among upper Torchwood management about where the Doctor might be able to locate spare parts for the new TARDIS, Pete told her about the unusual way this shop operates.  She reaches into her purse to make certain she has with her the only item in her possession this shop owner could possibly want in trade.

The small, metallic object catches the sun a little as she spots it in the bottom of her bag.  She smiles at it wistfully, and cradles it in the palm of her hand one last time.

She sighs.  Takes a deep breath.  This tiny little object has meant so much to her for so long.  It still does.  But she can part with it today if it means the Doctor will have something to remind him that not all is lost.  

She knows she can.

She opens the door.

“Oh, hello there.”  The shopkeeper looks up from his desk towards the back of the store and smiles at her.  “Can I help you with something, miss?”

Rose closes the door behind her.  “I think you can,” she says, determination lacing her tone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much, mountaingirlheidi and hanluvr, for pre-reading this and giving me such helpful feedback. 
> 
> And thank you all for reading. I had a great time writing this little story and I hope you enjoyed it. <3

On Christmas morning, Rose wakes to the delicious smell of bacon and eggs wafting into her bedroom from the kitchen.

She rolls over and looks at the clock on her nightstand.  It’s only 6:47, but the Doctor is apparently already awake.  

Rose breaks into a sleepy grin at how eager he is for Christmas to begin.

Yawning and stretching, Rose pulls back the covers and slowly gets out of bed.  She grabs her dressing gown from its hook on the back of her bedroom door and pulls it on, tying it loosely around her waist.  She toes on her slippers before trudging into the kitchen to see what the Doctor is getting up to.

“Good morning, Rose!” 

He's still in his dressing gown, over which he’s tied that ridiculous floral-print apron her mum got her last year as a housewarming gift.  His hair is a riotous mess, and he’s got on the brainy specs he needs to wear first thing in the morning now that his eyesight is more human and less Time Lord than it used to be.

She tries to remember if the Doctor has ever looked more adorable.

“‘Morning,” Rose says, trying to match his enthusiastic tone.  It’s early, though, so she doesn’t quite manage it.  “You’re fixing breakfast?”

“Yep!” he replies, popping the  _ p _ .  “Christmas only comes round once a year, after all.  And we have a very big day ahead of us. Figured we shouldn’t start it off on an empty stomach.”

He turns back to the stove and resumes poking at the sizzling eggs.  Rose pulls up a chair at the kitchen table and sits down.  She watches as he makes them both breakfast, marvelling at how domestic they’ve become without either of them planning on it happening.

“Smells brilliant,” Rose says.  A moment later her stomach rumbles, proving her point.  She laughs a little, embarrassed.

The Doctor turns his head to look at her.  His eyes are soft, kind -- but there’s something else in his expression, too, that she can’t quite place.

“It’ll be ready in a moment,” he tells her.  He swallows, before continuing in a much quieter voice. “And then, after breakfast… well, I have a sort of a...  gift.” He pauses. “For you.” 

Rose’s heartbeat quickens.  He’s gotten her something too, then.  

“I was thinking that maybe… maybe before we go to your parents’ this afternoon, I could…” He trails off, the tips of his ears turning pink.  “I dunno.  Give it to you.  If you want.”

He sounds so uncertain.  She rushes to reassure him. “I think that sounds lovely.”  She chuckles again, wondering if she sounds half as nervous as she feels.  “Actually, I've got you a little something too.”

The Doctor hums -- either in thanks, or simply because he doesn’t know what to say in response; Rose isn’t sure which -- and then he nods.     


A moment later, he dishes up their food.  They eat together in silence, the thoughts whirring away inside Rose’s head so loud they drown out everything else.

* * *

 

After breakfast they move to the living room and sit down on the floor, cross-legged and right across from one another.  The Doctor wastes no time, pulling a small package wrapped up in pink and yellow ribbons from underneath their little tree before Rose even has a chance to settle comfortably on the floor.

He hands her the gift.  And she panics.

“Wait,” Rose blurts out, suddenly incredibly nervous.  “Don’t you… I mean, shouldn’t we maybe change out of our pyjamas first?” 

He blinks at her several times in rapid succession.  “Um, actually… I'd like to do it now if it's all right with you.”  He closes his eyes.  “Before I lose my nerve,” he adds so quietly Rose isn't certain he's even speaking to her.

Another long pause.  “All right,” she says eventually.  She pokes around under the tree for a few moments until she's located his gift, nestled between things from her mum and Pete. 

“I like the paper you used,” the Doctor says, indicating the small package in her hands, one side of his mouth quirking up into a small smile.  She glances down at the gift, which she wrapped in paper covered in constellation from this universe. It’s leftover paper from last Christmas, when Tony wanted all his presents covered in stars.  Somehow, Rose think it suits the Doctor, too.

Rose smiles back at him, a little of her nervousness fading.  She gives him his gift.  “Ta,” she says.  “Okay, which of us goes first?”

The Doctor swallows audibly, his adam’s apple bobbing. “How about we open them together.”

Rose steels her nerves.  “Um.  Alright.  On the, uh… count of three, then?”

The Doctor nods and clears his throat.  “On the count of three.”

“One… two… three…” they say in unison.

With shaking hands, Rose tears off the paper and ribbons covering her gift. Inside she finds a plain cardboard box.  She lifts off its lid -- and gasps in surprise and delight when she sees what's inside.

“Doctor,” she breathes.  She carefully lifts the delicate chain out of its box and holds it gingerly between thumb and forefinger.  “Oh, Doctor.  It's beautiful.”  Never in a million years would she have imagined he’d get her something so pretty and sentimental and perfect.

“Rose…”  The Doctor’s voice is very hoarse.

Rose had hoped the Doctor would like his gift.  Does he?  She looks up at him, but his eyes are riveted to the unwrapped gift in his hands.  His jaw is clenched and his eyes are glassy with what might actually be unshed tears.

“Doctor…” She got it all wrong, she realizes too late.  He hates what she got her, or perhaps she should have trusted her instincts in the first place and not have even bothered to -- 

The Doctor interrupts her internal monologue by pulling her to him roughly and burying his face in her neck.  He wraps his arms around her, holding her close.  On instinct she winds her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

“Rose… do you know what this is?” he murmurs, his voice low and urgent.  His breath is hot on her neck, making her shudder in spite of himself.

This was not at all the reaction Rose had expected from him.  Nonplussed, and more than a little distracted, it takes Rose a moment to find her voice.  

“The man at the shop called it a Nanogrip.  Something that could… you know.  Secure certain alien navigation devices to the bow of a ship.”  She swallows, trying to focus on answering his question and not on the way the Doctor’s breath feels against the sensitive skin of her neck.  “I thought you could use it to mount that occulator thing you're always carrying around.  Once the TARDIS is fully grown, anyway.”  She laughs a little, more nervous now than she's been at any time this morning.  “You carry it around with you everywhere, and I don't want you to lose it somewhere by mistake.”

At her words, the Doctor’s hold on her tightens.  “Yes.  It’s a Nanogrip.”  He sighs deeply, and nuzzles her neck.  “Oh, Rose.”

They sit there like that for a very long moment, neither one of them seeming to want to be the first to move.  Rose’s heart is pounding so hard in her chest she feels certain the Doctor can feel it thumping against his own.

At length, however -- and far too soon for Rose’s liking -- the Doctor does pulls back.  She looks into his eyes, which look at once grateful, and hopeful... and yet somehow, indescribably sad as well.  

Rose cannot remember the last time the Doctor’s reaction to something confused her this much.

“Thank you, Rose,” he eventually says.  He smiles at her warmly -- and then just like, that the sadness she saw in his expression evaporates.  His eyes are bright.  Sparkling.  “It’s perfect.  I love it.  And I know exactly where I want to mount it on the console once the TARDIS is ready for flight.”

“You're welcome, Doctor,” she says, trying to return his smile, hoping she's not blushing as furiously as she suspects she is.  “I just wanted you to have something to remind you that you won't be stuck down here on Earth forever.”

“Mm,” the Doctor says.  His smile slips a little, but then it’s back again, just as bright as it was a minute ago.  He clears his throat and then gives his head a little shake as though to clear it.  “Do you… erm.  Like your present?”

Rose looks at the beautiful necklace she's holding.  “‘s gorgeous, Doctor,” she says.  She holds it up to the light and marvels at how the colors within the delicate, stranded chain seem to shift depending on the angle.  “Really, it's so lovely.”

“It's nearly unbreakable as well,” he says, knowingly.  “It's called a Galarian heartstring because it's made on the planet Galaria.  In both universes apparently.”

Rose unfastens the clasp and moves to put it on.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”  He turns his gaze out the window, his eyes adopting a faraway look before he continues.  “I thought you could wear your… Well.  Your TARDIS key on it.”  

At his words Rose’s hands fall to her sides, dropping the necklace to the floor.  

The Doctor continues, not having seen her reaction.  “I know how much the key means to you, Rose.  And you're always leaving it places, or else wearing it on necklaces that inevitably break...”  

Rose nods her head in agreement as he speaks, willing the tears welling up in her eyes not to spill over onto her cheeks.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice wobbly.  “It's true.  And I love my TARDIS key.  Reminds me of all those wonderful adventures we've had together.  And of… you.”  She sniffs loudly, losing her battle against the tears.  “Thank you so much, Doctor.”

He must have heard her sniffling because he turns to look at her.  “Oh,” the Doctor says, sounding surprised.  He looks concerned.  “You dropped your necklace, Rose.”  

Rose looks down at the floor.  “Yeah.  I… um.  I guess I did.”

“Rose?”  The Doctor moves closer to her and scrutinizes her face. “Hey.   _ Hey _ .  You’re crying.  Why are you crying?”  He blanches.  “I can… I mean… I can get you a different gift if you want.”  He shakes his head, as though irritated with himself, and scoops the necklace up off the floor.  “I should have known you wouldn’t want something like this...”

“Oh, no, Doctor,” she says, wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands.  She laughs a little in spite of herself.  “I love it.  Really I do.  It’s… well, it’s beautiful.  It's gorgeous.  Really.”  She takes back  the delicate chain from his hands and lifts up her hair.  “Will you put it on me?”

The Doctor eyes her warily.  “Are you certain you like it?”

Rose nods, worried her voice will betray her emotions if she tries to speak.  

The Doctor does not look convinced, but he does as she asks.  He takes the necklace from her and carefully fastens it around her neck.  

She drops her hair. “How does it look on me?”

“Lovely, Rose,” he says softly.  His eyes meet hers.  “But I wish you would tell me why you’re upset.”

“Doctor,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.  “Oh, Doctor.  It’s nothing, I swear.”

She trails off, unable to continue.  The Doctor, for his part, also says nothing, but the look on his face tells her the cogs inside his head are whirring away a mile a minute as he tries to work out what’s going on.

And then, just like that, his face lights up in understanding.    

“Rose,” he says very slowly. “Where did you get my Nanogrip?”  But the look on his face tells her he already knows.

She sniffles.  “Doctor,” she says, shaking her head.  She doesn't answer his question.

“But why?” he asks her.  He takes her face in his hands, and her eyes slip shut.  “You gave the shopkeeper your TARDIS key.  Why?  Why would you give up something that meant so much to you?”

How can she explain?  “I just… I just wanted you to have something that would remind you of home, you know?  You feel stuck here.  I know that.  So, I wanted to get you something that would remind you of the TARDIS.  Of space and time.  I wanted you to remember that the stars are still out there, waiting for you.”  She opens her eyes.  “Waiting for us.”

“Rose,” the Doctor says on a quiet whisper.  “Come here.”  

And she does.

Rose cannot pinpoint the exact moment when the Doctor’s lips find hers, or when her arms wind their way around his shoulders.  But he's kissing her now, with all the passion she dreamed about all those horrible years spent without him.  They’re still sitting cross-legged on the floor, and their knees knock together awkwardly as he rises up to take her more fully into his arms, but Rose has never experienced a more perfect bliss.

“Rose,” he breathes against her lips, pulling back just long enough to say the word before leaning in for more.  The kiss is tentative and shy, all brushes of lips against lips and soft whispers of each other’s names.  But it’s real, and it’s happening, and Rose is so overwhelmed with emotion it feels like at any moment she might break apart.  

Then a thought occurs to her.

“Doctor -- you got my necklace at that shop too,” she says. Suddenly she's certain of it.  “Didn’t you.”  

His lips are on her collarbone now, kissing along her jaw, but he pulls away from her, at her question, looking sheepish.  And he nods.

“And… and you gave away your occulator for it,” she says.  It isn’t a question, because she’s convinced she's right. But he nods his assent all the same.  

“Um.  Yeah.”  The Doctor rubs nervously at the back of his neck, his face flushed in embarrassment.  “I did.”

Rose holds him tighter.  “But why would you do something like that, Doctor?  It’s the only thing you had left from home.”

He pauses, then, and pulls back to look into her eyes.  He laughs a little.  It’s a breathless sound.

“I don’t need little trinkets to remind me of home, Rose,” he says, a smile playing at the corner of his lips.  “Not when I've got you.”

She nods, and a laugh bubbles up from inside her before she can stop it.  

And she leans forward to kiss him again.  Because he's right, of course.  He does have her.

Just as she's got him.


End file.
